A World at Every Plunge
by Tiamat's Child
Summary: Trisha is exhausted. Luckily, she has good neighbors. Manga continuity.


**Title:** A World at Every Plunge  
**Author:** Tiamat's Child  
**Fandom:** Fullmetal Alchemist  
**Word Count:** 1000  
**Rating:** K  
**Characters/Pairing:** Trisha Elric, Rockbells  
**Summary:** Trisha is exhausted. Luckily, she has good neighbors.  
**Warnings:** None.  
**A/N:** Written for fma_fic_contest at Livejournal, prompt 44, "Ladies Only". It's been edited a bit since then – mostly because I was reminded that we have, indeed, had one mention of a canon personal name for Dr. Sara Rockbell in the manga, although her husband hasn't had one in that source yet. (So I guessed. I'll probably turn out to be wrong, but hey.)

**A World at Every Plunge**

By the time Trisha Elric got home on the day she buried her parents, she was so tired that she noticed every breath she took. Her chest felt curiously hollow, as if her heart had simply gone somewhere else and her ribs and skin stood undisturbed over its absence, ready to resonate like timpani if touched too sharply.

The house was empty.

It occurred to Trisha, as she stood in the door, relentlessly clear autumn day behind her, that such spaces, such places defined by what they did not contain, were going to be a very large part of how she lived now. _I will stub my toes on nothing_, she thought, and felt so ridiculous that she started to cry.

The tears would not stop. She tugged off her boots, jacket, hat, gloves through a veil of stinging water and stumbled into the parlor, down onto the sofa, unable to still her sudden shaking, hands pressed uselessly to her eyes. She ought to have taken the Rockbells up on their offer of a bed in their study, supper, company. She thought, in company, she would have been well enough to eat, to nod, to smile a little and even to speak, but here she was alone and she was not even sobbing, only shaking, only crying, air caught and clenched in her lungs.

After a long, long time she shuddered, feeling worn down, ground down, too tired to quake anymore, and let herself spill sideways to sprawl on the sofa, still in her good dress. In a little while longer, she fell asleep that way.

She woke to the first hint of red morning coming through the parlor window, and Sara Rockbell's warm voice at the door. "Trisha? Are you awake?"

"Mmm," Trisha said. Her head hurt, and her throat hurt, and her mouth tasted rusty and sharp.

"Just keep on resting," Sara said. "My mister's looking after the animals for you." She paused, and Trisha squeezed her eyes shut tight, even though it hurt. "I'll get you some water."

Her heels rang as she walked away. Trisha didn't want to move. It wasn't so much that she hurt - although she did, something too tight in her throat and her eyes aching, a spike of pain in her forehead - but more that it was hard to feel it was worth moving. She was bone deep tired, even with the immediate edge of yesterday filed off. She'd been bone deep tired, and if Todd Rockbell had the animals, then all the responsibilities she'd been carrying these several months were gone.

She felt as if she'd tried to use a table to lift herself up, and found nothing there but air, falling forward through the empty space.

But she had company, and she loved Sara, and she knew Sara would worry if she didn't make an effort, because Trisha always made an effort, so she twisted herself about to sit upright, and began an attempt at smoothing out her sleep crumpled skirt.

"I suppose you really needed the time alone," Sara said, coming back in. Trisha looked up. Sara had two glasses of water, and she set them both neatly down. "I didn't put a kettle on because I didn't know if you wanted to go back to bed."

Trisha started to answer, but made a noise that was more of a closed off croak when she tried to speak, so she drank half her water instead, and then answered. "I don't. It isn't really necessary."

"It might be," Sara said, watching her close. "You haven't got much sleep lately."

Trisha shook her head. "Wallowing won't fix anything," she said, and flinched at the sound of her own voice, how brittle and sharp she sounded, when Sara didn't deserve that all. Sara and Todd had made her parents' last months as peaceful and pain free as they could manage, and Sara was a good friend. Sara cared about her. Sara meant only good for her. "I'm sorry," she said. "I don't mean it that way."

Sara reached over and put her hand on her knee. "It's all right. I know you don't. You just don't want to mess with your sleeping patterns."

"No," Trisha said, grateful for the reprieve. "I don't."

"So it's all right," Sara said. "Mama wants you over dinner and supper, though. Says it's an order." She waggled her eyebrows.

Trisha surprised herself by laughing. "Am I allowed to eat my breakfast in my own house?"

Sara smiled. "Yes. And Todd or I'll cook for you."

"No, no." Trisha stood up. It was easier than she'd thought it would be. Her body was strong again. She supposed it was only her soul that was tired. "I'll go put on a kettle and I'll do it."

"Pfffff," said Sara and she stood up too. "Come on, honey lamb. Let me feed you. I know you're hurting," she said, as she put one hand on Trisha's elbow and one on her shoulder and turned Trisha to her. "It's okay for you to let me know that, all right? I'm a Rockbell woman." She grinned. "I can take it."

Trisha smiled and ducked her face against the heat in it, blinking to try and hold back the flood of salt.

"And you're an Elric woman," Sara said. "So I know you can take it too. It's all right to be wounded. No shame in it." She squeezed Trisha gently. "Happens to everybody, in this world of ours."

"I know," Trisha said, and it wasn't going too long without water that crushed her words, compressed them down so that they were hard to say, like speaking bricks or coins.

"Doesn't make you any less strong," Sara said, and let her go.

Trisha raised her head. There was a hollow place in her, but she felt warm, too, and lighter on her feet and there was a tease in her voice as she said, "You said something about making me breakfast?"


End file.
